


Honeymoon Pit Stop

by starkind



Series: Burning Rubber, Burning Hearts [4]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), DC Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Crossover Pairings, Honeymoon, M/M, One Shot, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-13 11:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9122443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkind/pseuds/starkind
Summary: On Bora Bora, Tony and Bruce try to indulge in much needed leisure time. Sequel to the Petrol Hearts trilogy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part IV decided it wanted to finally be written up after many months.

“What language do they speak on Bora Bora?”

From where Tony was lounging in one of the Cessna's leather seats, favoring both of his legs on the opposite seat whilst browsing a tour guide booklet, he cast a questioning glance to the right. Bruce looked up from the little notebook in front of him. His eyes briefly scanned the brochure's cover. “Isn't that supposed to say in there? Tahitian, probably.” Tony snorted with good-natured sarcasm.

“It could also be French."

“Is that better than Tahitian?”

“Not for me.”

“See?”

Wayne went back to typing, though not without twisting his mouth to avoid letting the smirk shine through. With a resolute snap, Tony closed the booklet and gave his husband the evil eye. “How surprisingly cheeky for you, my love. Did you have a clown for breakfast this morning?” Bruce pretended to squint into the distance as he pondered his answer. “Other than the one sitting across from me, no, not that I remember.”

Stark bared his white teeth at him in mock-laughter and flung the little booklet into his direction. “Better believe I'm telling Doc Kane you're harassing me.” His husband curled his lips into some sort of mock-pout. “For the rest of the week, you'll have to resent to writing in your diary, I'm afraid. The place is known for not having any kind of reception whatsoever.”

At that, Tony placed a dramatic hand over his heart, feigning shock.  
“No wifi? You mean I'm stuck with seeing that ugly mug of yours for five long days?”  
Despite his try for humor, it did not escape him how Bruce's expression changed for worse at his gesture.  
  
Now, almost eight months after his surgery, Tony found himself forgetting about those gruesome surgeries and pain-filled weeks after waking from the coma. It did not mean that Bruce was able to forget just as easily, however, and Tony had to be careful not to stir up unpleasant memories. Right there and then, Wayne morphed his features back into his usual, nondescript expression. “I'm sure you'll find a way to cope.”

It was followed by a little wink.

+

Once they got off the plane at Bora Bora airport, a custom yacht was waiting to take them on a 15-minute cruise to the private island. The Four Seasons lay surrounded by sand-fringed islets on an outer coral reef, enclosed by a turquoise lagoon, making both Tony and Bruce crane their necks at the yacht's bow as the resort came into view.  
  
Polynesian flower decor and a half bottle of chilled Champagne served with canapés welcomed them once they entered the over-water bungalow suite with its lagoon view and single bedroom. Tony whistled through half-closed teeth. “This is Le Thing, babe. Real neat. Le Neat, so to speak.” Bruce blew out his cheeks and inspected the sweat stains down his shirt with disdain.

“Stop Frenchifying every sentence, and I will admit you're right.”

With a poked-out tongue, Tony grabbed a flyer from the nightstand. His attention briefly switched to the shirt Bruce threw onto the bed. “Says here: Breakfast in the privacy of the bungalow, delivered by canoe. I want that. Make someone paddle over with a tray on their head. Neat.” Bruce leaned over his shoulder to read along, pecking his neck in the process. “You know we have to reign ourselves in and wear clothes then.”  
  
From where he was purring along, a thoughtful look wormed its way in between Tony's brows. “Ah, decisions, decisions.” Bruce then stopped his ministrations, which earned him a disdained harrumph, and glimpsed at the crystal clear, turquoise water of the lagoon. “ Speaking of which – I want to go paddle boarding out there.” Stark hummed. “Do that naked and I'll forget about the breakfast canoe.”

He yelped when Bruce bit into his nape, albeit soft enough to not leave marks.  
“Stop talking about breakfast now.”  
His fingers reached for the hem of Tony's shirt.

Their suite came with a private plunge pool that overlooked the ocean. With no neighbors in plain sight, the two of them went skinny dipping before dropping down on their king-sized bed. “We're soiling the sheets.” Tony popped an eye open and followed Bruce's voice and line of view. “S just water. In this heat, it'll dry off fast.”

They had not bothered to towel themselves dry after fleeing from the sun's direct exposure which was about to wreak havoc on Bruce's pale skin. Tony turned towards his nightstand to grab a bottle of water and put it to his lips. Behind him, Bruce shifted closer, until he was spooning him. “Give me some.” An arm reached over and took the bottle from his hand.

Tony turned onto his back to watch his husband gulp down the remains, Adam's apple bobbing. A quirky smile ran over his lips as he reached out to fondle certain parts of his gloriously naked spouse. Bruce's eyebrow arched upwards. “Handsy.” He disposed of the empty bottle and moved in one fluid motion to straddle his hips. Raking his eyes over the naked body, Bruce stopped to examine the way Tony's chest started to heave faster.

“Too much? Are you tired?”  
Stark squinted up with a peeved snarl.  
“Stop insulting my stamina. I need to be fucked, not coddled.”

Afterwards, they slept the midday heat away, until it was time for a romantic dining experience in the early evening hours. A brief canoe ride from shore to the exclusive location later, Tony and Bruce sat on a table set for two right on the beach of a private island. Dressed in light button-down shirts and linen pants, they toasted each other while the executive chef lit candles inside glass lanterns around them.  
  
“Could it get any more kitschy?”  
Wayne's low voice was not as spiteful as he tried to make it sound. A hand rested on his, accompanied by a cheeky grin.  
“Now I gotta call off the dude with the ukulele who wanted to sing Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

+

Going on a helicopter tour to explore the beauty of Mount Pahia and Mount Otemanu from above two days later had been Tony's wish. Bruce who was usually not too fond of all things flying humored him and went along. Equipped with huge aviator headphones, they sat in the back of the blue metallic chopper from Tahiti Helicopters and watched the scenery getting smaller underneath them.

“You look a little green there, babe.”  
Bruce seethed under his breath.  
“Shut it.”

Some exquisite pampering session for two at the private Kahaia spa suite later, Wayne's queasiness had evaporated enough for them to spent the second to last day in peaceful bliss. With the sun going down right in front of their bungalow, Bruce cast a glimpse to his right. Tony's hair was still damp from his latest shower and curled around his ear and temple. He wore a red t-shirt and a content grin in between nipping from his soda.

“I have thought about things.” Two dark brown eyes blinked reality back into view, then Tony turned his head to look at him. “I really don't think they've seen your Weiner at that distance. Stop worrying.” Bruce gave a little, exasperated snort. “Not that.” He stared down at the glass filled with ginger ale in his hand. “I'm toying with the idea of racing again.”  
  
Tony chugged his drink. “Nifty, but I'm not gonna go buy SW Racing back. I've had way too much fun pissing off Queen Industries when they thought they had us by the balls, only to lose to LexCorp in the end. Priceless. Besides, I'd hate to sit on the sidelines watching you stir up NASCAR all alone.” Wayne bit his bottom lip. His eyes remained glued to the wooden planks of the patio.  
  
“Not NASCAR.”  
It was more of a quiet exhale. Tony frowned.  
“Pardon?”

“I'm thinking of the... AMA.*”

“No.”

Tony's jaw was set tighter than mere moments ago. Bruce exhaled.

“I won't race in NASCAR anymore without you, but motorbiking is...”

“... a fucking suicidal sport on two wheels!”

Wayne amended his deduction with a slight tilt of the head. “I just want you to think the following idea through. Your Stark-Tech air race prototype suit worked better than anything I've ever seen or worn. If you'd be the chief technology officer, in charge of...”

“Fuck, no! I'm not gonna watch you die out there! Once and for all!”

“... what if we had Stark Industries' bikes? The safest you could design and create?”  
A pause. Bruce's try to appeal to Tony's mechanic and technical genius was then followed by a huff.  
“That wouldn't get you anywhere near the official races.”  
  
Bruce smiled a rare, benign smile.  
“Even if.. your custom-made bikes would blow anybody out of the water, no matter what.”  
Tony tilted his head back and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and an index finger for the longest time.  
  
“Way to ruin the last day of our honeymoon.”  
His husband's jaw worked.  
“I won't speak about it again.”  
  
When Bruce's ring-clad hand appeared on his armrest, palm up, Tony eventually caved in. With intertwined fingers, they watched the sunset.

+

Back in the Cessna the other day, Tony fell asleep as soon as they were airborne. Bruce unbuckled and stood up to take the StarkPad from his hands before it could clatter to the floor. On the screen, blueprints that vaguely resembled a motorbike in the making flickered up at him. Wayne put the tablet aside and went to fetch a blanket, brushing a palm against the sleeping man's cheek.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *AMA = American Motorcyclist Association
> 
> Location mentioned in this story:  
> http://www.fourseasons.com/borabora/


End file.
